


To Be Worthy

by goldenteaset



Series: Swapping Fates [2]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Career vs Family, Chivalry, Daddy Issues, Family Issues, Gen, Issues all around, Loyalty, Servant Swap, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lancer chuckles wryly. “You know…I’m a little jealous of Lady Rin. She can take her time to become an adult, she has you and her mother to teach her what she needs to learn…”</p><p>Lord Tokiomi sighs deeply. “If only it were so simple. Mages are taught young—a fresh mind isn’t as deeply entrenched in older thoughts; it can adapt and change with the times. Not that there’s much change to be had in the Mage community.” His laughter is brittle and forced. “One day, Rin will have to learn how to push aside her humanity for her own goals. And I’m unsure if I want to be there when that happens.”</p><p>Lancer raises his eyebrows. “How unfortunate that I promised to keep you alive, then.”</p><p>In which Tokiomi receives a valiant vassal, and Lancer finds himself torn between his duty as a knight and his duty to his Lord's family as a whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Elegant Partnership

**Author's Note:**

> As you might have guessed, this isn't a continuation to "A Child's Wish Above A King's", but it's in the same vein. I posted this awhile ago, or started to, but soon realized that it still needed work. So, here it is, gussied up!
> 
> This would've been one long oneshot, but the way things were going I needed to put a break in to give pretty much everything room to breathe. So, two parts! (Probably not three.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Zero.

Lancer awakens in what can only be a Mage’s workshop. He doesn’t see his new Lord at first—for some reason his entrance is… _foggier_ than normal. As the fog clears— _No, it’s dust_ , he realizes as he sneezes—he eyes the leather-bound books, the flickering candles and lamps, and a fascinating contraption that looks like a cross between a sewing machine and a printing press. _I’ll have to ask what that device is—later. First…where_ is _my Lord?_

“Welcome, Lancer.”

Lancer spots him then—he’s clad in a red suit and leaning on a cane with a ruby tip. His eyes are a shade of blue that reminds Lancer of a sapphire ring he saw on a Lady’s finger a long time ago. There’s a keen sense of triumph in this man’s eyes, and Lancer already wants to see that look directed at him again.

But first, protocol has to be maintained.

“I ask of you: are you my Master?”

“I am, Lancer. My name is Tohsaka Tokiomi.” Tokiomi stands a little straighter—not that he needs to—and holds out his free hand. “I realize it’s not strictly necessary, but…shall we shake on it?”

Lancer stares at that hand, outstretched like his Lord didn’t just grant him a long-withheld boon. “Yes, but…”

Tokiomi looks surprised. “But what?”

Lancer scratches the back of his head, embarrassed. “…Well…it’s been a long time since a Lord I’m allied with offered his hand to me. It’s a foolish thing, forgive me.”

Tokiomi shakes his head and smiles. “I assure you, that’s not foolish.”

Lancer smiles back and clasps hands with his new Lord. “Very well, then. May our partnership be strong, my Lord.”

“I’m sure it will be.” It seems to be Tokiomi’s turn to look embarrassed. “By the way, calling me ‘my Lord’ is not necessary. Call me whatever you like. Well, except for insults; they’d be a waste of time and air.”

Lancer can’t help but laugh softly. “Alright, then. Would ‘Lord Tokiomi’ do?”

“Yes, I believe so. Come, we have much to talk about.”

\---

Lancer instinctively winces when Lord Tokiomi introduces his wife Aoi. He tries to be subtle in covering his love-spot, but unfortunately both Lord and Lady notice.

Lord Tokiomi is clearly trying not to pity him. Lancer appreciates the effort. “That won’t be necessary, Lancer. I read up on your legend before summoning you.”

Lady Aoi smiles softly and holds up her wedding ring. “Tokiomi enchanted it to resist the curse. Since I wear it always, you’ll never have to worry about me falling for you.” She rummages in the pockets of her white cardigan and pulls out a band-aid. “And, well, this might not be as elegant a solution, but hopefully it will help.”

Lancer takes the band-aid from her delicate hand and carefully unwraps it. It fits over the love-spot and doesn’t obscure his vision, a perfect combination. His heart feels light and warm with sweet relief.

“…I thank you, my Lord and Lady. Now I can serve you without worry.”

“That was the plan,” Lord Tokiomi says, curling his arm fondly about his wife’s waist. “Would you like to meet my daughter?” He trips over the word, as though he meant to say _daughters_.

Lancer tactfully ignores the slip-up. “Certainly, but…isn’t it late?”

His Lord and Lady’s laughter is a pleasant sound, refined yet genuine. Lady Aoi answers his question: “Yes, it is, but I’m sure Rin has stayed up to try to catch a glimpse of you anyway.”

Lancer closes his eyes and focuses; low and behold, there’s a tiny presence at the top of the stairs nearby, listening in. “…Indeed, when I was young I would’ve done the same.”

Lord Tokiomi clearly senses the presence too. “You may come down, Rin—but only because it’s a weekend and can sleep in tomorrow.”

The little presence galumphs down the stairs—so fast Lancer quickly places himself at the foot to catch her if she trips—and Rin Tohsaka reaches the last step, nearly barreling into his chest.

“You’re _tall_ ,” Lady Rin exclaims, before going back a few steps to be able to see eye-to-eye with him. Her white nightgown is rumpled near her knees—she’s been listening for awhile. “Taller than Father! You must be part giant!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lancer says with a smile.

Lady Rin looks him up and down—her eyes catch on his spears in particular. “Are you a prince?”

“A Knight of Fianna, actually. I’m curious—what about me seemed princely to you, young Lady?”

Lady Rin reaches up solemnly and pokes at the curl that refuses to be slicked back. “That.” She giggles as the curl bounces.

“Rin!” Lady Aoi admonishes her, looking both amused and embarrassed. “Forgive her—”

“—Already done, my Lady.”

“Are you going to be working with Father?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, this means you may not be able to see your Father as much as you’d like. But I shall do my best to keep him safe from harm.”

Lady Rin looks sad for a moment, then places her hands on her hips with a determined frown. “You’d better promise!”

Lancer clasps his fist to his heart. “On my honor as a knight, I will bring your Father back to you, safe and sound.”

Lady Rin looks pleased. She peers over Lancer’s shoulder to look at Lord Tokiomi. “Father, you made a good choice!”

“It certainly seems that way. Now, Rin, it’s time for you to go to bed. When the sun is up, you can get up.”

Rin sighs forlornly and nods. “Fine. G’night.”

She makes her way back upstairs, leaning heavily on the smooth varnished railing as she climbs. Lancer suspects she won’t make it to her room before she nods off. Lady Aoi must think so, too, as she follows her daughter up the stairs.

Lancer turns to look at Lord Tokiomi. “Is Lady Rin your heir?”

“Yes. I’m sure she will give the Tohsaka family a bright future.”

“…Is something wrong, my Lord?” Something in Lord Tokiomi’s posture troubles him.

“Hmm? Oh, no, nothing. It’s just…it feels like I only held her in my arms for the first time yesterday. It’s strange to see your child grow up, that’s all.”

Lancer smiles. “It may reassure you to know that that strange sensation is a common symptom of parenthood, even back in my time.”

“Ha, yes.” The leather sofa creaks. “Were you ever a parent, Lancer?”

“…Possibly. However, I can say for certain I was a son, and my father voiced similar thoughts.” Lancer chuckles wryly. “You know…I’m a little jealous of Lady Rin. She can take her time to become an adult, she has you and her mother to teach her what she needs to learn…”

Lord Tokiomi sighs deeply. “If only it were so simple. Mages are taught young—a fresh mind isn’t as deeply entrenched in older thoughts; it can adapt and change with the times. Not that there’s much change to be had in the Mage community.” His laughter is brittle and forced. “One day, Rin will have to learn how to push aside her humanity for her own goals. And I’m unsure if I want to be there when that happens.”

Lancer raises his eyebrows. “How unfortunate that I promised to keep you alive, then.”

Lord Tokiomi looks at him with an unreadable expression. “…Lancer, was that a joke?”

Lancer immediately backpedals. “Forgive me, Lord Tokiomi, I didn’t intend—”

Lord Tokiomi is laughing sincerely now, albeit muffled by his hand. “Wait, wait, you misunderstand. That was actually rather funny. The last Mage who summoned you neglected to mention your admirably-dry wit.”

“…There are records about me from my previous Lords?” Lancer knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow it still startles him.

“Yes, and like all notes created by Mages they were difficult to crack.” Tokiomi inclines his head. “In nearly all of them, you were regarded well. Those that claimed you were unreliable, well, the writers themselves were foolish enough to either not research your legend or thought they were above such things.”

“…What if those ‘fools’ were the right ones?”

Tokiomi groans softly as he stands, propping himself on his cane. “Well, then.” His eyes burn with the embers of ambition. “We’ll just have to prove them wrong, won’t we?”

“With pleasure, my Lord.”

\---

There’s a few days before the Holy Grail War officially begins, and thus Lancer finds himself seated next to a veritable army of stuffed animals around a child’s table and cherry blossom-patterned tea set.

_“Part giant”, indeed_. Lancer carefully holds the tiny porcelain teacup in his hand and hopes he won’t accidentally crush it.

“Would you like some more tea, Sir Lancer?” Lady Rin asks, holding the teapot eagerly.

“Yes, please.”

“Say ‘when’.”

He holds out his cup and watches the steam from the tea curl up toward the ceiling. Outside, rain drums against the windows of the mansion like nature’s call to arms. It drowns out the pouring tea with ease.

“‘When’. Thank you.” The tea really is delicious, a mixture of honey and lemon that soothes his throat.

Lady Rin fills each of the stuffed animals teacups in turn, humming softly to herself. When she reaches the empty cushion next to her, however, she turns away so fast the teapot nearly leaves her hands.

Lancer keeps himself from sticking his nose into his Lady’s business by taking another sip of tea. _It’s not a knight’s place to ask such things, after all._

“Sir Lancer, have you ever rescued princesses?” Lady Rin asks, having set the teapot down with a slight _clunk._

“On occasion. But princesses normally didn’t stray far from their own knights, even in those days. Why do you ask?” Lancer suspects the answer.

“If I…” Lady Rin begins. She shakes her head and smiles a smile remarkably like her mother’s—but far more false. “Forget it, it’s nothing!”

Lancer smiles back and gestures to their furry companions. “Are all these toys yours?”

“Nope! Half are mine, half are my sister’s. Her name’s Sa—” Lady Rin’s expression turns thunderstruck. “You tricked me!”

“I merely asked you a question.” He _is_ curious about that unfinished question of hers. “But if your sister is an unapproachable subject, then I’ll ask no more.”

Lady Rin seems appeased. It always impresses Lancer how quickly a child’s mood can change. Adults seem to be able to hold grudges until the end of time, while children can forget misunderstandings in an instant. _But lost trust is impossible to regain at any age…_

Raindrops race each other down the windowpane as the tea party continues unabated.

_Perhaps I should ask Lord Tokiomi instead…_

\---

“I heard from Lady Rin that she has a sister,” Lancer says, as Lord Tokiomi runs a slender hand across one of his many bookshelves in search of a tome.

“Had.” Lord Tokiomi sounds very tired. “Rin had a sister.”

“Is she…?” Lancer has never been sure how to ask this question, let alone to a parent.

Lord Tokiomi finds the green leather book he seeks. “Thankfully, she’s not dead. But, like all Mage children, she had to be sent to an allied family to be tutored in magecraft. Now, she’s a member of the Matou family. It was that or have Rin and Sakura’s relationship twisted by jealousy.”

Lancer wants to say _There is always a third option_ , but obviously it’s too late now. “Rin misses her sister.”

“We all miss her. But, we’ll see her again—at school, in Rin’s case, or at various Mage functions when she gets older. It may feel as though she’s gone forever, but that isn’t the case. Feel free to take a seat, Lancer.”

“I see.” Lancer sits down on one of the chairs, his hands draped between his spread knees. “Forgive me for asking such a rude question, Lord Tokiomi.”

“You’re forgiven. Actually, it’s a good thing you came down here. Assassin has been killed.” Lord Tokiomi says those four words casually, as if over dinner.

Gooseflesh rises on Lancer’s neck, but he wills himself to be professional—glad, even, that a rather slippery opponent is out of the running. _Is this what my Lord meant by “pushing aside one’s humanity”?_

“That could be a good thing. How did he die?”

“He was trying to scope out the Master of Archer’s hiding place—but Archer found him first.” Lord Tokiomi sounds slightly baffled, as if there had been a plan set in motion but was now halted.

“Lord Tokiomi, are we allied with Assassin’s Master?” Lancer controls his tone carefully so as not to be presumptuous.

“We were, yes, but now he’ll have to retreat to the Fuyuki Church, the neutral ground.”

“Understood.” Lancer shifts in his seat. “As the Grail War has now started early, what would you have me do?”

Lord Tokiomi’s eyes are shadowed in the flickering orange light. “Send out your challenge and fight whoever answers first.”

Lancer chuckles low in his throat. “With pleasure, my Lord.”

\---

His first challenger is Saber, and her skill with a sword is unparalleled—even if her blade is hidden from the naked eye.

They whirl and thrust, the shipyard echoing with the clash of iron-on-iron. Lancer has missed this sound and the exhilarated feeling that comes with it the way one misses an old friend. And this Saber, her green eyes as bright and deep as the fields of Ireland, could be a wonderful friend.

_It’s almost a shame I have to kill her. But my Lord is counting on me, so regrettably…_

Lancer lunges forward, Gae Dearg’s pointed tip thrust toward Saber’s face. Unfortunately, Saber manages to duck out of the way, the red blade scraping against her cheek and narrowly missing her eye.

“Saber!” Her red-eyed Master calls out her name in anguish, her silvery hair whipping around her face from the wind of Lancer and Saber’s impact.

Lancer’s heart sinks. _What would Lord Tokiomi do if he heard such a plaintive cry? Would he truly be able to ignore the pain of a defenseless “enemy”?_

_…If I may interrupt, Lancer, it depends on the enemy._ Lord Tokiomi sounds more amused than annoyed. _You may ask such questions out loud any time you wish._

Lancer’s ears burn. _…Thank you for both the answer and boon, my Lord._

Lancer refocuses in time to see another Master-Servant pair have a chat of their own.

“I’m unharmed, Irisviel,” Saber says, wisely not taking her eyes off Lancer. “Fear not for your knight’s safety!”

“If you say so,” her Master replies, her voice tinged with her relief, a small smile on her face.

“You are a valiant soul, Saber,” Lancer says, no longer bothering to obscure compliments with his own pride. “I’m truly saddened that you and I must fight against each other on the battlefield, instead of side-by-side.”

“As am I.” Saber’s smile is small and sad. “Perhaps, in another time, that could be possible.”

“I hope so.” Lancer readies his spears, warm and reassuring in his grasp. “Shall we begin again?”

“Of course,” Saber says, and is a blue blur rushing toward him once again.

This time, after bracing himself in the gravel beneath his feet, Gae Buidhe finds its mark on her left hand. He’s unsure if he’s pleased or saddened by the blood trickling down and out of her gauntlet, staining her sword’s hilt and the ground below. Either way, one thing is certain: she is a strong opponent who he needed an advantage over.

Saber’s Master notices that her healing isn’t working and orders a retreat. Lancer lets them go—after all, there’s no honor in fighting an unarmed and wounded enemy.

Through their telepathic link, Lord Tokiomi chides him gently: _They could pose a problem later, you know._

_I realize that, my Lord. But as of right now, we are still the victor here, and there are others to fight._

_Very well. Continue onward. And Lancer?_

_Yes, Lord Tokiomi?_

_Win, no matter the cost._

\---

Lancer has always prided himself in being as exceptional a vassal as he possibly can. So seeing this shadow-enshrouded… _beast_ rage and thrash about like a madman, heedless of his Lord’s obvious illness as he and Lancer fight…Lancer’s blood seems to boil with rage beneath his skin.

It doesn’t help that the fight has been long and difficult, full of trying to get within stabbing distance and failing, or slicing through various Noble Phantasmed telephone poles or metal containers or even bicycles being thrown his way. Sweat on his shoulders and brow cools in the night air, but he’s still struck with unrelenting tiredness and frustration. _This fight must_ end _, and quickly._

“You dishonor the armor you wear, mad warrior!”

Berserker lets out a thunderous roar and throws yet another telephone pole at him.

It’s large and heavy enough to be dodged easily.

_Lancer,_ Lord Tokiomi’s voice echoes loudly in his mind. _Use the pole—_

_—As leverage!_ Lancer nearly laughs in delight at how their minds mesh. 

Lancer jumps out of the way, then uses the pole as a jumping off point to lunge at Berserker, Gae Dearg outstretched.

Lancer’s lips curl into a grin as Gae Dearg easily shatters Berserkers armor, leaving his vulnerable throat exposed. Berserker can only make a feeble gurgle as spear pierces through soft, graying flesh.

To spare the mad warrior a slow, painful death, Lancer cleaves Berserker’s head from his shoulders, his muscles straining slightly with the effort.

_Well done, well done indeed!_ Barely-contained mirth bubbles beneath Lord Tokiomi’s “voice”.

Lancer’s too joy-struck to reply.

Berserker’s Master, rivulets of blood and tears of pain mixing and streaking down his face, looks momentarily stunned. Lancer’s skin crawls as the feeble, gray-haired Mage lets out a moan of despair and crumples to the ground.

Lancer and Lord Tokiomi’s thoughts merge into one: _It would be a mercy to kill him now._

Lancer raises his hand. Gae Dearg gleams in the moonlight, poised to cleave yet again.

“Do you have any last words, Master of Berserker?”

Berserker’s Master gathers his final breath. “…Sakura…I’m sorry…”

Lancer’s aim is true. His heart aches.

He recoils as foul-smelling green-grey worms explode out of the corpse’s severed neck. They try to squirm away in all directions. Lancer feels letting them escape would be a mistake, and quickly destroys them. The corpse, unfortunately, is next.  

Lord Tokiomi’s voice in the mental link is weary. _Good work, Lancer._

_If you say so, Lord Tokiomi._


	2. Giving Thanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holy Grail War draws to a close, and Lancer makes a small wish.

In his fight against Archer a short time later, Lancer is abruptly faced with a strange choice: escape a losing battle, or stay to watch a comedy duo perform. _And I thought_ Berserker _and his Master were ill-matched…these two aren’t even_ pretending _to be partners in arms!_

“Archer! You _will_ obey me!” Archer’s Master appears to be in hiding. His voice echoes throughout the empty, shadowed park. “ _I_ am in control here!”

Archer stands atop a lamppost and laughs uproariously. “You truly are the greatest of fools, O lowly worm! Perhaps I should drag _you_ out here to fight this mongrel, as you seem so eager.”

_…Lord Tokiomi, what should I do?_ Lancer asks, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. He ignores the weary feeling settling into his bones.

_Unfortunately, Lancer, I’m unsure myself. Give me time to think._

_Of course, my Lord._

Archer and his Master continue to bicker. Lancer bites his cheek to keep from accidentally laughing.

“Perhaps, O slippery Master of mine, you should hand your Command Seals back to the Church, if you despise me so.”

“I will not shame my family’s honor!”

“Then you are coward and mindless traditionalist both, I see! Truly, your charms are infinite in their loathsomeness.”

“You my have been a king in life, Archer, but you hold no power here!”

“Oh? Then by that most sound logic, you hold even less than me. Therefore, I outrank you, _worm_.”

“I refuse to be talked down to!”

“Refuse all you like, _Kayneth_. That is your right, I suppose.”

“…Don’t you _dare_ use my name here. Call me Master.”

“Alas for you, I am all about daring… _Master Worm_.” Archer sighs heavily and with great flair. “Truly, your clever fiancée would have been a far better Master for one such as I. _She_ understands true greatness, and seeks unreachable heights. At the very least she would have been _entertaining._ ”

There’s a sudden pause, as though Archer’s Master is trying to figure out what to say next.

Archer’s gleaming earrings make a faint chiming noise as he turns his head to the left, arms crossed over his chest. Lancer suspects Archer’s Master is located in the opposite direction, but with the way his voice echoes it’s hard to tell.

“I shall wait patiently for your retort, Master Worm. The choicest insults arrive at the tongue after a period of contemplation, after all.” Archer pauses for dramatic effect, his ox-blood gaze sweeping over Lancer as though awaiting his reaction. “Though for you it may take a century or two!”

Lancer hopes his cough sounds sincere. Archer’s Master’s screeches of rage wind up covering the sound anyway.

Archer cups his hand to his ear, his expression one of mock-surprise. “Oh? What was that, Kayneth? Have you changed your mind regarding your name?”

There’s a faint red glow off in the distance, and Lancer begins backing away. _Damn, he’s going to use a Command Seal!_

Lord Tokiomi’s voice comes in loud and clear. _You should retreat, Lancer. I can tell you’re running low on mana._

_Very well, Lord Tokiomi._ Lancer teleports away, leaving the horribly mismatched Master-Servant pair behind.

\---

The Mana Transfer is far less of an ordeal than Lancer expected. (Then again, why would a knight be in his married Lord’s bed? Such things seem to Lancer to be a breach of protocol and trust alike.)

“Thank you for the meal,” Lancer says, before eagerly digging into the food before him.

It feels like a thousand years since he’s had fish, and so he’s surprised that this tempura udon dish tastes as good as it does.

Lord Tokiomi sits opposite him at the oak dining room table (he already finished his food), smiling slightly. “I realize this type of cuisine isn’t what you usually eat, but…”

“There’s no need to worry,” Lancer replies, carefully picking up the shrimp tempura with his chopsticks. “I suppose this isn’t normally what you eat, either?”

“Sometimes we all have cravings for things which aren’t strictly speaking our usual fare. Less charitably, you could call it ‘a lapse in judgment’. Though of course my family and I usually have these ‘lapses’ when no other Mages are around.”

Lancer laughs softly. “I see, you prefer a more subtle rebellion! I’m sure many a noble from my era could relate.”

“But not you?”

Lancer pauses to chew his (crunchy, savory-sweet) shrimp before answering. “I spent most of my days with my fellow knights out-of-doors; who could I rebel against and why?”

“Your father, perhaps?”

Lancer’s heart twists, and the laugh that bursts from his throat is harsh and bitter. “…Forgive me. That was uncalled for.”

“Was your father so unkind?”

Lancer fidgets in his seat. “That depends on which father you mean. But in the end, both treated me well, and taught me much, which is really all I could ask for.”

“We had similar fathers, then.”

“But hopefully not identical. Unless there’s a family curse you forgot to tell me about?”

“If Rin were here, she would say that her father is too busy. Aoi might agree. One could say being obsessed with perfecting their Magecraft is a society-wide blessing and curse.”

Lancer chews thoughtfully, then swallows. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Magecraft is something inherited, yes?”

Lord Tokiomi’s voice grows warm with (restrained) enthusiasm. “The Magic Circuits themselves are inherited through genetics, and our Family Crests are passed down from parent to child through a ceremony. Everything else—how well you use your magic, for example—comes from rigorous training.”

“Ah, so it’s the same as training in arms.”

“Precisely. I’ve heard it said in order to be _truly_ good at your craft, whatever it may be, you need to invest thousands of hours into your mastery. In my experience, that seems about right.”

“Indeed. And Rin will be the same?”

“Yes. She and her si— _Sakura_ both have the aptitude to become excellent Mages.” Lord Tokiomi beams with pride, and Lancer smiles back.

“My Lord, what of your wife? She must be from a Mage family herself—does she practice Magecraft too?”

Lord Tokiomi shakes his head sadly. “Somehow her birth family lost the ability to perform Magecraft a few generations ago. Instead, one could say that their Magic turned inward; it would be more accurate to say Rin and Sakura’s aptitude for Magecraft comes from her, not me.”

_Thank goodness he didn’t use the phrase “good breeding stock”. That would have been…_ most _uncomfortable._

Lancer continues eating, organizing his thoughts—as always, he does not wish to offend. “…Which reminds me: Berserker’s Master. He was from the Matou family, and spoke of Sakura before he died. Do you wish for me to check on her?”

Tokiomi’s face looks like a death’s mask. Any light in his eyes has faded, replaced with cool courtesy.

Lancer lowers his head and lets out a weary sigh. “…Forgive me, my Lord. Such a question was uncalled for.”

“I forgive you. But I advise you to not ask that again.”

“May I ask why?”

Tokiomi nods. “Of course. It’s a simple answer, I suppose. It’s not because I don’t still care about Sakura, but rather that I _do_. I have reason to believe she will not be with the Matous long, but I must not dwell on that. I must not be tempted from my path to Akasha, to the Root. I _must_ be the Tohsaka heir to reach it, so that my children will not have to stain their hands as I must.”

“I understand, Lord Tokiomi.” Lancer picks up his glass and raises it for a toast. “To Akasha?”

Lord Tokiomi smiles and mimics him. “To Akasha.”

The feeling of the glass clinking together sends a worried shiver down Lancer’s spine.

\---

They resort to hit-and-run tactics from then on.

Lancer wishes they had done this from the start, but then again, neither he nor Lord Tokiomi can see the future. Still, hit-and-run is one of Lancer’s favorite strategies simply because he does it so well.

The first to fall to this new plan are the vile Caster and his Master. It takes about three days, and for Lancer they feel like a decade. Not because of tedium, but because every night without Caster dead is another child missing. (Finding their sewer hideout and their “art” didn’t help.)

Caster’s Master, a youth who wouldn’t be out-of-place in either a dance or a dungeon, has both the vigor and fool’s bravery of a man in his prime. He can’t be a more obvious distraction—his tiny scalpels gleam in the dim light as he slashes at Lancer’s arms and chest, only to dance out of the way of Gae Buidhe.

“You caught us by surprise last time, Mister,” the boy says, sliding in and out of the sewer’s shadows like he was born there. “But _this_ time, we’ll make you into art!”

“Yes!” shrieks Caster from a distance, fumbling through his Noble Phantasm spell-book. “We will turn you into a living monument to God’s cruelty! You and these children will form the backbone of a temple of atrocities, the likes of which God Himself would shed tears of joy to behold!”

_Ah, yes, the eternal question when it comes to people like this: is he a mad prophet, or merely mad?_

“You make the coolest speeches, Big Guy!”

Caster smiles at his Master and bows deeply. “It’s all because of you, Ryuunosuke! Truly, you are an inspiration!”

It’s now clear neither of them have been sleeping well once Lancer began his three-day assault. _Perfect._

When the boy is distracted, Lancer strikes. The young Master is dead before he hits the ground, his purple shirt stained red with his blood.

Caster lets out an inhuman keening sound and rushes forward—Lancer thinks he’s about to attack, but no, he merely scoops up the corpse and holds it close.

He manages to not feel _too_ much pity as Caster cradles his dead Master in his arms, a twisted parody of the Virgin Mary and her child.

“Have you no regrets?” Lancer asks, as he prepares to strike.

“ _Jeanne, oh help me Jeanne!_ ” Caster wails, his fishlike eyes overflowing with tears.

Lancer has never been one to embrace _schadenfreude_ , necessarily. But oh, how his heart seems to burn with delight as Caster turns to dust on the tip of Gae Dearg, and the (living) children he and his Master captured stumble back into the light of the moon, free and unbound.

Lancer keeps to the shadows and makes sure none of the children can see him, relieved as the healthier children prop up their disabled fellows and help them into the light.

His mind flashes to Caster, his tears and desperate cries for a friend.

_…I wonder if Heroic Spirits and their Masters can meet again?_ Lancer finds himself wondering, and soon pity takes over.

_I can wonder about that later. I have no time for pity._

Thankfully, the children don’t need much caring for. Lord Tokiomi called the police beforehand, and now Lancer can hear the wailing sirens closing in. He silently departs.

\---

“It appears,” Lord Tokiomi says over tea one morning, “that Archer took advantage of our own strategy and used Rider’s weakened state to kill him. But then Saber’s Master pulled a foul trick of his own involving holding the wife of Archer’s Master hostage and…well, long story short, the Archibald family will not get the Grail.”

Lancer frowns into his cup. “What of Archer?”

“It turns out his Master hadn’t been supplying him with enough mana—out of spite, probably—and between that and our own attacks on him, Saber was able to defeat him. That leaves Saber’s Master and myself as the only Masters left.”

“That tactic sounds distinctly unlike Saber’s Master. She did not seem the type to be so… _cruel._ ”

Lord Tokiomi frowns and nods. “Indeed. Perhaps she has a less scrupulous partner?”

“If so, we will need to be equally unscrupulous. But against Saber herself, I shall make it an honorable bout. I owe her that much.”

“Good.” Lord Tokiomi settles himself more comfortably into his chair, legs crossed at the ankle with his left foot bouncing with nervous energy. “I never expected this day would come so soon. I confess it still feels like a dream, to be deemed worthy of the Holy Grail…”

“It feels that way for myself as well.” Lancer looks outside at the sun rising into the cold morning sky. “Do you have any last errands to run before tonight? I would be happy to assist.”

“I do—I haven’t had the chance to visit Aoi and Rin yet. Would you like to come along, Lancer?”

“I would be honored, Lord Tokiomi.”

There’s something in Lord Tokiomi’s eyes that catches Lancer off-guard. It’s a look somewhere between the familiar cold mask and a different, softer emotion. He looks more akin to a painted graveyard statue than a human, his hands curled around the teacup as though it’s the only thing anchoring him to the world.

“Is—” Lancer stops himself, and then decides to press on anyway. “Is something the matter, Lord Tokiomi?”

Lord Tokiomi’s falsely-reassuring smile turns Lancer’s mouth bitter with familiarity. “Everything is quite alright, I assure you.”

_So_ that’s _where Lady Rin learned that smile._

\---

Lancer’s suspicions only grow when he and Lord Tokiomi visit Lady Aoi and Rin at their second home. But Lord Tokiomi finds ways to put him off the scent.

The first thing Lady Rin says when he exits the driver’s seat is “Mother, look, Lancer’s wearing Father’s clothes!”

Lancer looks down at the black suit, then up a little to look at Lady Rin. “Oh, well, it was Lord Tokiomi’s idea, and I don’t wish to cause too much commotion…”

Lady Aoi laughs and gives him a reassuring smile. “It’s quite alright. They’re a little small in the shoulders, but they suit you.”

_I wonder…could these be…?_

Lancer’s inevitably distracted by Lady Rin’s chatter about the new Magecraft she learned (she shows off a diamond seahorse to him, which he happily praises), as well as Lady Aoi’s relieved smile that the band-aid on his love-spot still works.

“I bought you more,” Lady Aoi says as she hands him a small boxful. “Just in case.”

Lord Tokiomi leans over and kisses her temple. “What would I do without you?”

“Sit in your office all day,” Lady Aoi and Rin say simultaneously, causing all three to laugh.

Lancer holds the box to his heart. “I’m honored, my Lady. Thank you kindly.”

“Speaking of gifts,” Lord Tokiomi says, handing his daughter a hefty brown book he brought from his library. “Rin, this is for you. You’re ready for the next step in your training.”

Lady Rin’s eyes light up like gemstones in the sun as she clutches the book to her chest. “Thank you, Father!”

“You’re quite welcome. Mind the pages, though; they’re very fragile.”

“I will, Father.” She smiles proudly and (after securing the book under her left arm) shakes Lancer’s hand. “You’ve been doing good, Lancer! You better keep it up!”

Lancer lets out a surprised laugh before giving a bow. “As my Lady commands.”

Unfortunately, the visit has to be cut short. Lancer walks to the car and waits in the driver’s seat for his Master to follow. He sees Lord Tokiomi and Lady Aoi embracing, followed by Lady Rin joining the hug. _He should stay here. I should go alone, let him be with his family..._

When Lord Tokiomi climbs into the passenger seat, Lancer can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s thought the same thing.

“…Lord Tokiomi, you _could_ stay,” Lancer manages to say, as he takes his sweet time starting the car.

“Unfortunately, no, I cannot.”

Lancer lets out a harsh sigh and roughly tangles his fingers through his hair. “I want to ask why, but I think I can guess. Fine. As I’ve said before, I will do my best to keep you safe.”

“Thank you.” The response is mere courtesy, nothing more.

Lancer’s knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel. “And Lord Tokiomi?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you for the mourning attire.”

\---

Lancer would laugh were he in a jesting mood. _The Fuyuki Civic Center? It seems the Grail has a taste for the theatrical._

The building itself is completely deserted, yet each empty room Lancer and Lord Tokiomi enter is lit and clean, ready for visitors to arrive.

“This place grows more unnerving by the minute,” Lancer says softly, ears pricked for any strange sound. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Quite. Saber’s Master is a tricky one; expect anything and everything.”

A familiar presence suddenly comes into focus, a few doors away. “I know where Saber is. She must be near the Grail.”

“Go and have an honorable bout, or a quick one—whatever it takes to keep her from the Grail. I’ll distract her Master.”

“As you wish.” Lancer dashes away, following the thrumming beacon of Saber’s presence. Already, his heart pounds like war drums in his chest.

His heart pounds faster when he reaches Saber’s location, in the auditorium. She’s standing on the stage, bathed in the Grail’s golden glow, her face cast half in shadow, half in light. In that moment, he wishes he had Oisin’s gift for poetry. He pushes the thought away—fighting Saber in peak condition is compliment enough.

“I will _not_ allow you to have the Grail,” Saber says, her voice trembling slightly. “Stand down, Lancer!”

“Then why have you not taken it?” It’s not a jibe, but an honest question.

Saber’s brows furrow in discomfort, and her gaze flicks briefly to the Grail behind her. “…I myself am unsure. It feels—it feels as though it would disturb her.”

_“Her” who?_ Lancer cranes his head to look behind Saber and sees a casket lying beneath the Grail, nearly invisible behind the blinding golden light. There in the casket lies an all too familiar white-haired corpse.

Lancer’s stomach lurches just as Lord Tokiomi’s voice crashes through his head: _We’ve been played for fools—the “decoy” is the true Master. I’m directly below you._

Lancer adjusts his spears. _Can you defeat him?_

Lord Tokiomi’s chuckle is oddly comforting. _Have a_ little _faith, Lancer! Stick to our plan._

  _Very well._ “Saber! Forgive me, but I must bring the Grail to my Master. Prepare yourself!”

Saber attacks first, her face shadowed. Lancer digs in his heels and feels the floor shudder beneath the weight of her assault. Her invisible sword trembles against his crossed spears before she steps back and thrusts upward.

Lancer mimics her, wincing as Saber’s sword scrapes against his right arm. “This is no place for a proper battle. Both of us are boxed in.”

Saber offers up a small smile. “Then surrender.”

“Ah, if only.”

Their battle begins again, this time with Saber on the defensive. Lancer thrusts and slashes at her, pleased when her armor weakens under Gae Dearg’s touch.

Just when Saber is pressed back against the stage, Lancer is distracted by the Grail—or rather, the black mud oozing from within it. _It looks like old, congealed blood…?_

Saber notices his distraction and follows suit. “Irisviel!” She leaps onto the stage and runs toward the casket—only to stop when the mud envelops it, leaving the sickening smell of burning flesh behind.

“ _This_ is no holy relic,” Lancer hears himself say, and readies Gae Dearg and Gae Buidhe. “Saber, forgive me, but we must destroy it.”

Saber looks at him with eyes brimming with unshed tears. She wipes them away and nods, her expression determined. “Yes. Together, then.”

The room is filled with another, brighter light, a mixture of red and gold, as they attack their final foe.

\---

_Diarmuid Ua Duibne, do you have a wish you would have granted?_

_…Who…?_

_I am the Grail. Give me your wish, Knight of Fianna._

Lancer’s head is foggy, and his body is weak, but even in this state he finds it in himself to offer up a small wish.

_I wish…for the happiness of the Tohsaka family. I wish for Sakura to be part of their family again._

_I see. Nothing for yourself?_

_That_ is _for myself. Their inability to see their own need for each other wreaks havoc on my heart._

He swears the Grail laughs. _Yes, I can grant that wish._

_…Thank you._

\---

Lancer awakens just in time to see Lord Tokiomi shot by Saber’s Master.

Lancer stumbles to his feet, barely registering that his body is growing numb. Saber herself is gone, lost in that final attack. He deftly avoids the rubble and small fires slowly dying here and there. _Is_ this _the result of our attack on that vile Grail?_

Saber’s Master pitches forward, covered in terrible burns. Lancer reluctantly admires the man’s bravery, to have enough strength for one final blow.

Lancer reaches Lord Tokiomi, quickly realizing that something is very wrong. A mere bullet shouldn’t cause such blood to burst from Lord Tokiomi’s mouth; nor from his arms or legs. Lord Tokiomi lets out an inhuman howl of pain and clutches to Lancer like a lifeline. There’s blood _everywhere_ , and Lancer doesn’t know what to do. He gets the vague sensation that something happened when he was in the Grail, but he shoves that aside.

A desperate idea bursts through the chaos: “Lord Tokiomi, I’m taking you to the Church.”

Cradling his Lord like a grotesque doll to his chest, Lancer teleports as quickly as he can, his mind racing. _Did I wish for something? How_ could _I, that disgusting mud was clue enough that that…_ thing _was no wish-granting device!_

Lord Tokiomi lets out a hoarse, trembling breath. “…Diar…muid…did you see…?”

Lancer bites his lip. “My Lord, forgive me, but hold your tongue. Don’t waste your energy.”

Lord Tokiomi looks at him with such unguarded anxiety that Lancer can’t help but be moved to answer.

“…I saw the Grail. It was corrupted. Saber and I destroyed it.”

Lord Tokiomi squeezes his eyes shut—Lancer tactfully ignores the tears brimming there. “I saw…Aoi and the girls…”

“They were a cruel vision, nothing more.”

“…I—I killed…” Lord Tokiomi’s voice cracks.

“Look at me. _Look._ It was a _vision_ , Tokiomi.”

“I…alright. Alright.”

They reach the Church, and Father Risei and his son Kirei are already waiting for him. Kirei carefully takes Lord Tokiomi from Lancer’s hands and whisks him inside, his expression never changing.

From within the Church, Kirei calls: “He’s been injured in his Magic Circuits somehow, but I’ll see that he lives.”

“Thank you,” Lancer calls. He looks down at his hands and realizes they’re nearly numb. He slowly lets them drop.

“Would you like to come in?” Father Risei asks, his smile reminiscent of a kind grandfather.

“If I may.”

Father Risei holds open the door, and Lancer strides inside, gritting his teeth at the blood spattering the floor.

“Pardon the mess. Do you think Lord Tokiomi will survive?”

“Have faith in Kirei and in God, my son.” Father Risei lets out a dry chuckle. “And don’t worry about the blood! I’ve seen many ill people before, and will again, unfortunately.”

“Lady Aoi and her daughter will need to know where he is—do you have a phone I could use?”

“Of course, follow me. My study is this way.”

Lancer feels a little odd using a priest’s phone, but the black plastic is rather reassuring in this moment. It feels odder to not feel the green numbers under his fingers, and he hopes he still has time.

Lady Aoi picks up after one tinny ring. “ _Lancer, is that you?_ ”

“Yes, Lady Aoi. We…the Grail was corrupt, so we were forced to destroy it.”

“ _That’s perfectly fine. But Tokiomi—is he—?”_

“Lord Tokiomi was injured, but I brought him to the Church. He should recover. He’s in capable hands, according to Father Risei.”

Lady Aoi’s relieved laughter crackles over the phone. “ _If it’s Kirei doing the healing, Tokiomi_ will _recover._ ” There’s a pause. The reception fizzes softly, like a fly trapped in a jar. “ _…The Matou family has been caught with multiple child abuse incidents. It was my old friend Kariya who told social services, and Sakura was brave enough to back the claims up._ ”

Lancer leans heavily against the varnished desk in relief. “Is she coming home, then?”

“ _Yes. She’d be pleased to hear she has a knight like yourself looking out for her and her family._ ”

“I’m glad.” Lancer bites back a growl of frustration as his vision begins to fade. “I have to go soon—tell Lady Rin ‘thank you for the tea’. And tell Lord Tokiomi I was honored to be his Servant.”

“ _I will. But I think they both already know._ ” He can see Lady Aoi’s smile in his mind’s eye. “ _Who knows, maybe Rin will summon you next time._ ”

“I look forward to that day gladly. And thank you.”

The world fades to white. The band-aid remains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to really show Tokiomi and Kiritsugu's battle, but I both couldn't fit it in and also realized that thanks to Kiritsugu's Origin Bullets, there was only one real way to end it. Oh, well, maybe another time. (Poor Kiritsugu, he seems doomed to endless cameos/deaths until I get around to him...)
> 
> Concrit and feedback is appreciated!


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